This is based on two prompts sent to omeliafics which were: 1) a post 13x24 fic. 2) Charlotte FaceTiming Amelia fic. I hope you enjoy it!
"Can I get you anything, Megan?" Amelia asks, returning to the living room with a turkey sandwich and glass of water for her husband.
"I'm not really hungry," Megan says, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing exercises. She's reclining on the couch, wrapped up in sweats and a wool blanket despite the heat being on, quite literally staring into space.
Amelia feels more than hears Owen's sigh of pain, of hurt, from her place behind him. "Are you sure? I can make anything you want?" She chuckles slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say anything." Megan doesn't respond, but she hopes the joke curved the corners of Owen's mouth, even just a little bit.
Megan keeps her eyes closed, attempting to stay calm. She shakes her head. This is all too much-being back. There is so much destruction in her brain. There is so much that has changed in her mind. And then there's her brother who is not the man she left. And Riggs, the man who bruised her heart. And Amelia, practically a stranger and caregiver all at once. There is no reprieve for the living, she thinks.
"Alright," Amelia says, more to herself than anyone else. She takes a seat in the bay window, curling her legs under herself and turning her eyes to the television. She doesn't know the show-it's not like she can focus too much on it anyway with all that's going on-but she looks there for the sake of staying busy.
The room is silent, clothed in tension and things left unsaid. It's ten minutes before another word is spoken, this time by Owen's raspy voice. "Amelia," he says, waiting for her to return his attention. When she looks at him, he continues. "You can go." At the look of hurt on her face, he hurries to correct himself. "I know you were going to FaceTime with Charlotte today. It was in the calendar."
"I really don't have-"
"Go," he says, gently but firmly, leaving no room for discussion. She's spent the last week in the hospital with him and Megan. She's sat by his side as he held Megan's hand, willing her to wake up. She drove them back and forth from their home to Madigan every day. She called work and took off the next two weeks for the both of them, not taking no for an answer. She drove him to appointments for his PTSD, and today she started taking Megan as well. She needs a break, too. She needs a time to process things. She has given that gift to him and he only thinks it's fair to return the favor. Because that's what he and her do: they always look out for each other. "We'll be okay."
She's worried, but she knows that Owen is just as stubborn as her when he sets his mind to something. She nods and tells them to call her if they need anything, before walking into their bedroom, closing the door part-way. She grabs her laptop from her nightstand and sits at the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath her and the other hanging just slightly above the hardwood floor. She logs in and presses Charlotte's contact, then waits for her to answer.
After three rings, Charlotte answers, looking out of breath. "Sorry," she says, her smile wide at finally seeing Amelia's face once more. It has been months. "The triplets thought it would be a great idea to take off down the street on our walk." Amelia raises her eyebrows, having missed the stories of her nieces and nephews in LA. "Is it really so horrible to put your kids on leashes?"
Amelia chuckles, the sound lighter than it's been in a long time. "It is."
"Damn it." She smiles at Amelia before jumping into updates and a line of questioning Amelia can't dodge.
"So she's staying with you now?" Charlotte asks after the two have thoroughly caught up.
"In our guest bedroom." Amelia lets out a deep sigh. "She needs to be here, with us right now. I'm the one who suggested it," she says. "But I'm worried about Owen. He's blaming himself for her spending ten years in hell. For giving up on her. And, with her here, he seems empty." Amelia shakes her head, trying to find the words to explain the shift in his behavior. "All he keeps saying is that Megan isn't herself. He can't get past it." Charlotte nods on the screen, prompting Amelia to continue. "And I'm trying to help him, but I don't know what to do. I try to do whatever I can, but what if it's not enough? What if I'm not enough? I don't want to make things worse."
"Hold on just a second there, Amelia," Charlotte says sternly. "You can only do the best you can do. You can't worry about doing something wrong. You do that, you start second-guessing yourself, and then you really won't be able to help him." Amelia, noticing the validity of Charlotte's statement, agrees with her friend's point.
"I just," Amelia wipes her eyes. No tears have fallen and yet her eyes feel wet and weighed down. "I've hurt him so much, Charlotte." She tilts her chin up toward the ceiling, her mouth falling open as she tries to control her tumultuous emotions.
Charlotte's straight back softens at Amelia's heartbroken words. "I know you guys are in a better place right now, supporting him with all that's going on, but that doesn't mean your problems went away." She's not going to deny that Amelia is right. It wouldn't do anyone any good. Charlotte then tilts her head in a way Amelia knows all too well. It's a look that's not quite pity, but a sense of knowing. She's been where Amelia is now and she doesn't want her relationship to implode any more than it already has. She has lived through that; she has already made those mistakes. "People like us," she begins, "we don't have the luxury of hiding our emotions. That bites us in the ass," she finishes. Amelia feels a single tear drop at her friend's words-the words that mimicked Charlotte's words of wisdom when Amelia was pregnant with her little boy. Amelia makes eye contact with Charlotte once more, letting herself begin to feel the pain she's locked inside of her for so many months. The months of running need to be over. "Amelia," Charlotte sighs, soft and tender. "I know you're helping him, but you should also talk about your baby and you leaving. You can't hide forever. You need to grieve and he needs to know. Marriage isn't a one-way street. He trusted you with his sister. Now it's your turn to have a little faith in him. The man you love. The man you married." Charlotte gives her a small smile, nodding slightly as if affirming her words.
Amelia sniffles, wiping her eyes with the edge of her fraying sweater. "I don't know if I can do it," Amelia says, her voice cracking with the intensity of the emotions swirling within her. That part of my life-"
"You can." Charlotte is sure, confident even. "You're strong, Amelia." She turns her head when she hears one of her children calling her. "I have to go," she says sadly. "Georgia needs me." Amelia nods in understanding. "Trust me. Talk to him." And, within mere seconds, Charlotte waves a quick goodbye and clicks out of the app, and Amelia is once again acquainted with her own face. She closes her laptop and takes a few deep breaths. Talking to Charlotte always puts things in perspective. That doesn't mean it's easy to hear, though. It's probably the reason she didn't call or check in all those months she spent apart from Owen. She wasn't ready to deal with the reality of it all.
She's still lost in her thoughts when she hears a rhythmic tap-tap on the bedroom door. She turns her head from her seat on the foot of the bed, raising her eyebrows in question, when she sees Owen standing just before the threshold. "Megan went to take a nap. She took some medication to help her sleep," he says. Amelia nods in acknowledgement. "May I come in?" he asks, seemingly hesitant.
She chuckles, trying to put on a good face. "It's your room, too," she says. He nods in agreement, but still seems hesitant to enter. "Is everything alright?"
He exhales deeply, the sound resonating within her very veins. "No, not really." He takes a few steps forward, eyes averted to the ground. She waits for him to continue, not wanting to push him more. She knows he's already put a lot of faith in her since she came back and she doesn't want to make things worse. She can't ask for more than he's already giving her. "Nothing is alright." He finally moves his gaze, allowing his crystal blue orbs to meet with hers, and she's relieved to find no anger lying in their depths. He seems sad, not angry, and she can work with that. She can be here for him.
She scoots over on the bed, letting her feet hang over the edge, and pats the space next to her. He complies, grateful for her show of willingness to talk, but not sure where to begin. Luckily, she takes the leap for him. "How much did you hear?" When his startled eyes immediately reconnect with hers, she chuckles. This time it's genuine. "You have a terrible poker face." She smiles ever so slightly.
"I heard enough," he answers. A red blush begins to creep up his neck, but she's not mad about the eavesdropping.
Looking down to her fidgeting fingers, she lets out a sigh. "I had a son." He nods, remaining silent. He turns to face her, only catching her profile, but keeping his eyes locked on her anyway. She'll meet his eyes when she's ready. "I told you that once." She begins to trace her pointer finger over the lines of her left hand. "I don't really talk about it much. I mean," she lets out a harsh, unforgiving laugh, "I never even told my brother. Or my mother." She shrugs, and her eyes turn upward, toward the ceiling. His heart breaks at her words, to know how she had struggled alone. "My baby had anencephaly." She lets out another breath before meeting his eyes. Her baby blues are watery and her heart is constricting with pain, but she knows she needs to do this. "I carried him to term and, when he was born, I held him." She sucks in a wavering breath. "And then he donated all of his organs." She sniffles and smiles through the pain. "And I don't talk about it."
He nods, reaching his palm out to cup her damp cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. He recognizes the words he said to her about Megan and, undoubtedly, he understands how hard this is for her to talk about. "I didn't like talking about it before I gave birth. Or after. It was that year that I relapsed, before I was pregnant. And my son's dad," the words catch in her throat. "His dad was the man who I loved, the one who overdosed. I woke up from this incredible high to find him dead." Her lips are quivering as she's trying so desperately to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "And this baby. This baby was supposed to be a miracle. A piece of him left for me to love." She leans further into his grasp, closing her eyes. "And he was. My baby was a miracle to all those other moms and kids." She opens her eyes once more and finally a sob rips through her defenses. "But sometimes I wish," she chokes on her words, "sometimes I wish he was a miracle for me, you know? And then I feel guilty about it because he was, he was a miracle, and I did love him, so much. I still love him. I'll always love him." The words seem to pour out of her mouth, having been trapped inside the confines of her body for far too long.
He brings his other hand to her cheek, now holding the delicate curves of her face in both his hands, wiping the tears away as they fall. He murmurs sweet nothings, letting her cry, just looking into her eyes and reassuring her that he's here. He is here for her.
It's another five minutes before her words are coherent enough to make sense of, her sniffling an "I'm sorry" as her eyes close in embarrassment. She just said some of the worst things and thoughts of her life and she doesn't want to face him now. She doesn't want to see his opinion of her change. All this time, she was running from this, and now it is all out in the open. It's rather terrifying.
His eyebrows furrow at her apology. They had never apologized for sharing before, for feeling too much. His body aches at how far they still have to come. "There is nothing to be sorry for." She looks into his eyes at his words, her expression wary. "Mia," he croons, "there is nothing to be sorry for."
"How can you say that?" she whispers.
"Because it's the truth." He removes his palms from her cheeks only to grab her hands. He grips them tightly, wordlessly trying to give her strength. "It's okay to miss what you never got the chance to have. It's okay to want him here." He smiles tenderly. "You are already a great mother. To your little boy," he adds. "You were always right about that."
"I didn't hold him until he died," her voice breaks on the last word. "I let them take him out of my arms. I gave him up."
"And I'm sure that was the hardest thing you ever had to do." A few more tears trek down her cheeks and he leans in to kiss them away. It's the first time his lips have touched her skin since they've begun to reconcile and it makes her breath catch. "You did it for all those other kids and parents. You did it for your son to live on." He leans their foreheads together. "You did it so you could survive it, too."
He feels her shaky breath against his chapped lips, and he is grateful she is working through the pain. She never grieved, that much he is sure of, but she is getting the chance to do so now. "Thank you," she murmurs. She closes her eyes and takes a few seconds to feel his support, his presence, his strength. Opening her eyes, she meets his gaze. She's not done yet.
"I didn't tell you." She takes a deep breath, letting it filter out of her rounded lips slowly. "Instead, I ran." She watches the hurt flash across his eyes. "I didn't do it to hurt you, but I did it. I should have talked to you." He concedes with a nod, otherwise still silent. "I really do want children," she confides. She thinks she sees a glimmer of hope in her husband's eyes. "But I'm really scared to have children," she says, voice thick with emotion. "And I knew you were so excited about me possibly being pregnant, but all I felt was relief that the test was negative. And you were right." His eyebrows raise in question. "The longer I didn't open the door, the easier it became to stay inside," she clarifies. "It did become easier. I had all this time on my hands to think about why we wouldn't work and why I was just ruining your life-" He opens his mouth to dispute her, but is silenced by a raise of her hand. "I was wrong," she finally settles on the words. "I love you," she says, voice ringing with sincerity. "And I should have leaned in. Not out. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you'll let me." Her entire body sags as she finishes her apology, and she looks even tinier than usual. "I'm done now," she says, her cheeks tinged red.
His eyes soften, his head tilting to the right, the look he always gives her when his empathy and compassion take over. "First," he says, "you did hurt me. You ran. And even though you told me not to blame myself, how could I not? You didn't talk to me. I didn't know what happened." She nods, dropping her eyes in shame. "The people closest to you are the ones who can hurt you the most. Sometimes, you hurt the people you love. We've both had our share of faults in this relationship." He uses his pointer finger to gently lift her chin up. Once he locks eyes with her, he whispers, "But I love you, too. So much. And I want to fight for us." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her rosy lips. There's a slight twinge of pain as his chapped lips brush over her salty ones, but it doesn't deter him. It's been too long; they've gone long enough without this.
Things aren't perfect, but this is a start. He's here. She's here. They're both a little broken and bruised, but they made vows. Even more, they have love. So much love. They are going to make it through the storm. He's sure of it.
Thanks for reading! I hope we get to see some of this in Season 14. Leave a comment if you so desire. ❤️